


rapunzel, rapunzel (let me braid your hair)

by spacecleavage



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon, F/M, NSFW, Smut, fuck you kayla, happily ever after fic, over clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/pseuds/spacecleavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke had only caught a glance of herself in the mirror, before she was rummaging through her belongings, looking for her small comb. She needed to brush out her hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rapunzel, rapunzel (let me braid your hair)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raincityruckus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincityruckus/gifts).



> dear raincityruckus fuck you. just so you know, kayla gave me this prompt, because she didn’t want it anymore
> 
> prompt:- clarke standing in front of her shitty mirror trying to brush out her grounder braids, bellamy comes in and smut
> 
> warnings:- smut, nsfw, unbetaed fuck you kayla

Clarke had only caught a glance of herself in the mirror, before she was rummaging through her belongings, upending all her clothes, leaving a destruction in her wake (not for the first time). She finally found the small comb, she’d bartered for it just before she’d come back to Arkadia, hopefully for the last time.

She stood in front of the mirror, gathering a small clump of knotted hair, combing the ends of her hair. Each stroke caught a knot, catching her comb and tugging at her skull. It was a cross between painful and calming, it reminded her of her mother brushing her hair when she was young. Just the memory was enough to let her feel a rush of warmth and comfort, like she was safe in her mothers’ arms. The clump, only the section above her ear to her temple, took her a few minutes. When she finally got to the roots of her hair, she couldn’t help but scrunch up her nose at how dirty her hair was. It didn’t feel like her hair, and as she looked in the mirror, it didn’t look like her hair.

Her arms began to ache after a few more minutes, she’d done half her head and her roots burned from all the pulling and tugging. A knock on her door stopped her, she thought about stopping, letting her arms drop and swing by her side, but decided against it, she needed to fix her hair. Now.

“Come in,” she called back, picking her next clump, her fingers already untangling it from other parts of it.

She smiled at the mirror when Bellamy appeared in it briefly, he didn’t smile back, just moved out of her sight. His boots hardly made a sound against the floor, but the little squeak her bed gave, indicated that he was now sitting, if not lying on it.

She didn’t stop her combing, waiting for Bellamy to begin.

“Do you ever have a really long day, but you just can’t explain why?” his voice sounded tired, almost as tired as he looked.

Clarke turned, moving forward to stand between his legs. “Yes.”

“Your hair…”

“Yeah, do you wanna help?” She held the comb out to him. She was definitely wasn’t imagining his fingers in her hair, combing through it, using it to change the angle of her head, his lips against hers. Him using his fingers in her hair, to pull her head back and kiss down her neck, she just wanted her hair to be back to normal. Everything to be back to normal.

Bellamy smiled as he took the comb, gesturing for her to sit.

Sitting cross-legged between his thighs, trying not moan and groan as the comb went through her hair. There was something about someone combing or brushing her hair, it was so calming, relaxing. She adored it, she used to beg her parents to brush it, braid or even just run their fingers through it when they were together. It got so bad she’d even ask Wells to do it, put her head in her lap as they looked out the observation port, dragging his fingers to her hair.

Clarke tried not to purr when Bellamy pressed through her hair, dragging along her skin.

“Do you want me to braid it for you?” his voice was surprisingly close to her ear. She flinched away from it, before smiling.

“Wait, how’d you know how to braid?”

“Who do you think taught Octavia?” she could hear the smirk in his voice, smugness coming off in waves.

“Yeah,” she swallowed, “yes, yes, please.” She nodded her head vigorously.

He actually brought moans to her throat as he braided her hair. She stared at the mirror, it’d been found in one of the living quarters of downed stations, Clarke felt slightly weird about using someone else’s belongings. But then again, on the Ark everything had been recycled, her shirt had belonged to another before her and another before them. The mirror had obvious history, the edge was jagged like it had just been broken, but marked by age.

That chain of thought lasted only thirty seconds before she got distracted by Bellamy’s legs. It wasn’t fair that his legs were so attractive, they were legs… how could they be attractive, make her stomach clench with desire? Her heart beat a little faster in her chest, her blood feel heavier in veins.

“You’re all done,” he tugged on the end of her hair.

She stood back up, looking down into his eyes, searching. His dark eyes were enchanting and pulling and she could see his pupils dilating, and fuck it, she was going for it!

She straddled his thighs, her hands clasped his shoulders, as her head ducked towards him. Their noses bumped into one another, before they slid forward, pressing their foreheads together, their lips millimeters apart.

She didn’t push forward, just let herself sink into the moment. She could feel the seams of her pants digging into her legs, the burn of her muscles stretching. The muscles of his legs tensed beneath her, as she rocked her hips into him. The fly of his pants pressed against her in the most delightful way, her breath rushing out of her as she rocked into him. She could feel the heat of his hands settled on her hips, his fingers clutching at her, drawing her closer. The way her shirt stretched as she breathed almost distracted her, but her hands anchoring her to him, his biceps bulging.

His breath puffed against her lips, her cheeks and tickling her chin. She pulled away, a small smile on her face and her gaze flicking back to his eyes. His eyes which stared at her lips. She couldn’t help but do that same, staring down at his full lips. She wanted to taste his so badly, her tongue flicked out.

She leant forward, pushing her forehead against his, sighing as his hands moved to wrap around her waist. Causing her to press further against him, she could feel the growing bulge of him. She moaned out as he jerked his hips up and into her, she clenched, desire spiking in her gut.

She could feel how wet she was, how she wanted to ride his fingers, have his lips against her clit, and his cock, she wanted his cock inside her, stretching her out, pushing inside her and driving her towards oblivion.

She ground against him, slowly twisting her hips, gazing into his eyes.

His eyes were always so fascinating to her, how they burned with such passion, could convey so much anger and aggression and hate, they couldn’t hide his fear or sorrow worth a damn. She’d never met a person who had such expressive eyes. His sisters were always veiled, the same with her mother. Finn’s eyes had seemed so open in the beginning but later they were just broken. And Lexa, Lexa always seemed to be hiding something, like she wasn’t willing to give herself to Clarke.

But Bellamy’s eyes, they were so open, like he didn’t have anything to hide. Then she’d come back, Arkadia the small, sprawling city, with Pike in control and his eyes had been so open until he’d slipped the handcuffs around her wrist.

Now his eyes were showing only… desire, heat and something else buried deeper.

She wanted to study it to uncover it, but his hips twisted just as she rolled into him. Her eyes fell closed as a sinful moan fell from her lips, she moaned again, louder, when he repeated the action. The jolt seemed to have snapped something inside her, because she needed more friction, she needed it desperately. She could feel her orgasm building within, higher and higher, but she needed that friction. The feel of his cloth covered cock against her, right below her clit, pushing against her and driving her ever closer to her release.

Her head lolled back as she revelled in the pleasure.

“No, no, no, Clarke. Look at me, you have to look at me,” his voice dripped with authority, and she was helpless to it.

As she stared into his eyes again, finding again that desire and that something else… affection? Love?

She let out a strangled gasp as he thrust up again, she was so close, she could feel the burning rising up within her but cresting just short of her release.

“Please Bellamy, more,” her groan echoed around the small room, almost silencing their movements.

They stared again, an eternity passing as Bellamy searched her eyes. Her mouth opened, to beg, again.

But she was silenced by his lips finally setting against hers, swallowing her words to keep for himself. His grip on her hips tightened as he rubbed against her, finally pushing her to that precipice, taking her hand and jumping off with her.

Pleasure tore at her body, ripping her apart and the fire, that fire burning inside her spread, engulfing whatever remained. What was left, tensed and twitched with no meaning, as if she had no bones, as if her release had robbed her of them and her mind.

She hadn’t even realised that her eyes were closed, but when she opened them the light had changed from the pale sun to the harsh florescent lights. Bellamy was in front of her, curled away. She was tight behind him, her arm wrapped around his waist, pressing her breasts up against him and her forehead pressing into the space between his shoulder blades.

She sighed into him, cuddling closer. It’d been a long, long time since she’d felt this at peace. Like there was no emergency, no war around the corner, no battle to fight, no enemy to defeat, no people to save. She wished she could stay here forever, Bellamy in her arms, the waves of comfort and home surrounding her, burying her.

It was perfect.

“You know you really need to wash that hair of yours, Clarke,” Bellamy’s deep timber rang out. She could hear the smile on his lips and she smiled against him. “I could help if you like?”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](www.thatweirdparamedicstudent.tumblr.com)


End file.
